Jim's Quite A Character
by Joss Teagan
Summary: Sherlock has dissociative identity disorder, and one of his extra personalities is a man called Jim. John's dealing with this, until Jim decides he wants what Sherlock won't take. Johnlock, some Johniarty. A little bit of fluff too!


John padded downstairs to the kitchen. On the way he passed his boyfriend, who was quietly reading.

"Sherlock, do you want some tea?"

"No ta, Johnny boy, I made myself an espresso while you were napping."

John stiffened. He replaced the kettle and went back to the living room, where Sherlock sat with his newspaper. "Jim?"

Sherlock looked up and smiled a thin grin, unlike his usual expression. "Yes?"

John sighed.

He'd been fine with Sherlock's dissociative identity disorder, he _had_ been. Maybe because it hadn't impacted their lives much, for eighty per cent of the time, Sherlock was Sherlock. But there was still that twenty per cent that couldn't be ignored. John had seen rages and fear, he'd seen half-lives consuming Sherlock for all of a day so fleeting they didn't even give themselves names. Sherrinford had lasted the longest. He had been Sherlock without the acidic wit and coolness, and John had enjoyed this alter ego's company as much as he could, while worrying for Sherlock's mental well-being. Sherrinford had even kissed him. John had explained to him that although Sherlock and John were a monogamous couple, sex hadn't been discussed as Sherlock didn't seem to want to pursue it. But a close-lipped kiss had passed over his lips, and that was that. John now knew what Sherlock's mouth would feel like on his, but he also knew he wasn't going to feel it again.

The other personalities had faded in time, even Sherrinford. They'd been replaced with Jim, and _that _was difficult. Sherlock played the violin at three in the morning and stole body parts from the morgue, made clients cry and insulted John's intelligence but Jim made him seem as sweet as their landlady.

Jim was loud and rash, rude and cruel, without the decency Sherlock possessed. He liked violence and vandalism, and doing bad things for no good reason. At first, he did a whole range of things just to see if he could- setting John's things on fire, harassing random people in the street, but he calmed down when John interacted with him. Unlike Sherlock, Jim was a lot more tactile and he would follow John around the flat or sit with his head on John's lap. Jim was a brash, Irish nutter who made John's life hard, but John couldn't deny he liked the contact. Jim was constantly running his fingers over John's face, or grabbing on his jumper, linking hands with him whenever he could. And the way he would look at John or listen to him, ignoring all other distractions, it made John's heart race although he tried to ignore that.

Unlike Sherlock, Jim thrived on all attention, both good and bad, so telling him off had little effect. Jim couldn't be told no. but John suspected even Jim had limitations. He was wrong.

The first time Jim had kissed him, John had been insistent that it couldn't happen again.

"_Sherlock and I don't have a physical relationship, ever." He had said, quite bluntly, and Jim had looked at him with those silvery-blue eyes and nodded. But when John woke in the middle of the night, with Sherlock, no- Jim's mouth on his neck, warm and moist, it had taken all his strength to tell Jim to go back to bed, his bed._

"_But Johnny," Jim whined one autumn morning, throwing out Sherlock's experiments just to annoy the detective when he surfaced. "I'm not Sherlock- so we can do what we want? And it's not cheating because I'm in his body."_

"_No, Jim. You're just going to have to accept that you and I are never going to sleep together."_

John had hoped it would end there, but perhaps Jim had read the wavering uncertainty or the lust in John's eyes, because he continued to grope John and tease him, tell him in throaty tones what he'd do to him if John would just let him.

And eventually, John did. He couldn't help himself any longer.

"_Sherlock won't remember, right?" he asked in between kisses, grabbing a handful of black curls to keep Jim off his mouth long enough to speak._

"_Oh no, of course not. Now give me your mouth…"_

John had never felt so desired. Jim would have him in their beds, on the sofa, on the kitchen table, anywhere in any way. He couldn't keep his hands off him, and in return, John showered him with the affection Sherlock wouldn't allow.

John awoke one morning, loose-limbed and tired, but happy. He stretched, feeling the sheets twist around his body and the ache of being thoroughly used the night before. He smiled, but the smile faded when he caught the look on Jim's face. No, Sherlock's face.

Sherlock was sitting on the edge of the bed, sipping tea, while watching John. Although there was no real expression on his face, it was that blankness that unnerved John. He tentatively said "Sherlock?"

"Ah," Sherlock said. "You're awake."

John knew he should say something but what that something was, he didn't know. It was impossible to be sensible at this hour, he reckoned, but he couldn't shake the feeling Sherlock knew something he didn't.

"Did you sleep well?" Sherlock asked, and then, John knew something was wrong. Sherlock would never say something like that. He wondered fleetingly whether this was a new personality emerging but that thought was quickly rejected, the man spoke with Sherlock's voice, and besides, there hadn't been any other new personalities since Jim came.

"Er, I slept fine thanks. You?"

"I slept well too. I woke up and I didn't know why I felt so tired. Then I looked at you and I did know."

John was beginning to see what the problem was. "Sherlock…"

"I tell you I'm not ready for a physical relationship so you wait for me to gain a personality who will climb into bed with you? If I didn't- if _Jim _didn't have memories of fucking _you_ into the mattress and making you _beg_, I'd call this rape."

"Sherlock, I didn't- he just- I _tried _to stop him!"

"You didn't try very hard. Does our relationship really mean so little to you?"

"It means the world to me! God knows, I prove it often enough. Running after you on cases, cooking, cleaning, putting up with all the- the shit you pull-"

"So you're saying you're entitled to this because I'm difficult to live with?"

"No! I'm saying I don't have a problem with our relationship! But I do right now, because you're looking at me like I'm cheating or something! Jim's _you_, Sherlock. He's you on a really bad day. And he looks like you and walks like you and talks with your voice, except with an Irish accent so can you hate me being attracted to him? I couldn't resist him anymore than I can resist all the things you get me to do, running on errands and helping you with cases. And besides, I thought you wanted me to be supportive of your condition, to treat your personalities like I treat you. Well, I did." John stopped, breathing heavily. It felt wonderful to say what had been weighing on his mind but he felt he'd crossed a line.

"I need time to think about this." Sherlock said, and John felt a rush of relief. It sounded like Sherlock wasn't ready to give up on them.

John was oblivious to Sherlock's ire. Sherlock seethed, the rage was boiling away in him with such potency, he almost expected venom to be mingled with the saliva in his mouth. How could Jim do this? How dare he? Sherlock didn't see the two of them, himself and Jim, interlocked, the way John did. Jim was a separate person, who happened to share a body with him. And Jim had seduced his partner. Sherlock ran a hand over his jaw, feeling his anger temporarily abate. Oh what was the use. Why pretend he was angry at Jim? He was angry at himself. He wasn't giving John what he wanted, he wasn't fulfilling the physical side of their relationship so John had looked elsewhere. The fact that his encounters had been with Sherlock's other personality instead of a different person was surely a blessing. At least John hadn't actually cheated. Sherlock excused himself from the room, feeling John's eyes on him as he left.

As soon as he was alone, Sherlock slumped against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Talk to me," he muttered. "I know what you and John have been doing and I'm not happy."

The response was immediate, as if Jim had been expecting him.

_Hello, Sherly_

"That's not my name," he said aloud, annoyed. "I permit you to live here, in my head, but that's all. I don't want you interfering with my life and changing things."

In his mind, he heard Jim's voice. That saccharine-sweet, lilting voice. What are you going to do about it?

"I can delete memories and data, anything I don't think I need. And Jim? I don't need you."

So much resentment, Sherlock…

"Resentment which is justified! I never made an effort to get rid of you and the other personalities because I never had much motivation to do so. Sherrinford could take over when I was talking to someone boring, and that was convenient. I didn't actively seek help to try and rid myself of these delusions. You don't exist, Jim. That's my body you're manipulating. But I won't let you use John too. He wants something I can't give him, but he's not going to get it from you. So stop."

Jim didn't answer for a long time and Sherlock wondered if he'd gone. Or was sulking. Finally, Jim spoke, his faint voice echoing from one of the darker corners of Sherlock's mind.

_Fascinating. You think of me as a different person, separate from who you are. But I'm not. I'm just the by-product of all the feelings you have that you don't want, that you can't explain. Anger, revenge…lust. I did all those things with him because you wanted to. But Sherlock Holmes couldn't. You think yourself too good for these tawdry, human activities, but your body still calls out for it. I don't hate you, I'm trying to help you. I love you, Sherlock. I love you and John. So did the others. If you want me to go, I'll go._

"Thank you," Sherlock said.

_I love him._

"I do, too. And I'm going to tell him that."

Sherlock meant it. He listened, but Jim didn't reply. Perhaps he was really gone. Sherlock didn't feel any different. He shrugged. It didn't change anything; he stood by what he said.

John was making a sandwich when Sherlock grabbed him from behind and kissed the back of his neck.

"Jim, you scared me!" the blond man laughed, putting the knife down.

"I'm not Jim," Sherlock huffed onto Jim's neck. "I'm me."

John turned around, looking confused. "Oh, I just- Jim normally-"

"John, I love you. I've never said it but I've always felt it, and…I am attracted to you. I simply don't know how to express those feelings. I think of sex as one of those things I don't need, but now, I think I want it. I can't promise you I'll be as good as Jim or consumed with lust but this-" He kissed John on the lips, slowly and sweetly. "This is nice. And we can build up to things."

"Sounds good. I love you too, Sherlock, and I'd be happy if we never even held hands, just having you here, with me, it makes me happier than I ever thought I could be." 

Sherlock smiled and took John's hand. "I'm glad,"

**Hope you liked that! Comment or favourite if you want, it makes me really happy to receive feedback! JT XXX**


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